


London Fog

by razodazol



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alpha Harry Potter, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, BAMF Minerva McGonagall, Blood and Injury, Drarry, Lucius Malfoy Being an Asshole, M/M, Omega Draco Malfoy, idk what else to tag this as, its angsty and gay, we stan mcgonagall in this house
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:00:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26960299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/razodazol/pseuds/razodazol
Summary: For Draco's entire life he had guessed he was a beta, and as such made plans with his life from that. He wasn't expecting to present late, and certainly not as an omega. Suddenly, all of those plans are sand through his fingers as he figures out what the hell he's going to do and deal with the new expectations his peers have put upon him.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 34
Kudos: 315





	1. Presentation

It wasn’t every day that Draco Malfoy thought about the more rigorous social standards of the school, or rather, how alignment effected students. He had always found himself lucky in that regard, he didn’t have the strong knack for violence and hostility like alpha’s had, nor the maternal, sweet nature of the typical omega. He was decidedly a beta by nature, according to both his parents and Professor Mcgonagall. Draco had no disnerable scent of his own, perhaps ‘The vaguest hint of tea.’ But then again, he had tea at breakfast so who was to say.   
  
His position left him lucky. Walking into the Great Hall for another meal, he started to notice how much protective gear his peers wore. Most omegas sought after magic to keep their instincts at bay, or wore charmed collars that kept alphas from breathing down their necks. But, the collars were an obvious mark of their weakness, and some alphas would still go sniffing like untrained dogs.   
  
The alphas were.. Different, a lot of them chose to wear patches along their scent glands, obvious marks of their alignment to be boasted around with pride. Many gloated about how supposedly strong their scents were, making them prime mates. Honestly, if they were that prideful, they’d walk around without the patches. Zabini was an alpha, he had a fairly strong scent. He smelled very strongly of a storm before it touched the grass, a distinct smell that many missed upon first meeting him. He never bothered with patches to begin with.   
  
“I don’t want people that close to me anyways,” he told Draco at the table, regarding the alphas around them. He must’ve caught him looking around, oh well. The look on his face was rather sour and Draco tried to busy himself with poking around the potatoes on his plate. He hadn’t come down to the hall hungry, and the smell of everyone combined with the food made his stomach roll over on itself. Maybe more people _should_ mask their scent better.   
  


A specific one was bothering him, a smell he hadn’t gotten off anyone before. Cinnamon spice permeated through the air and it was coming right from the Gryffindor table. Draco lifted his head up, he was certain he had memorized nearly everyone’s scent so none of them could try a thing. This scent was new and so distinctly alpha that his nose burned.   
  
He spotted the source easily and curled his hands into tight fists. _Potter_ , always Potter. He didn’t even have the decency to try and hide it, either. It seemed like everyone was taking notice, multiple heads facing in the direction of the red and gold clad table.   
  
“Looks like someone finally presented,” Pansy kissed her teeth, “He can’t even control how much he’s putting out, it’s ridiculous.”   
  
Draco wanted to agree, hell, he did agree, in his head. Potter was putting out a blanket of fresh alpha scent across the hall and frankly, it was nauseatingly strong. He had have the mind to tell him off for it, to walk over and perhaps spell it out for him. Potter would certainly be embarrassed.   
  
But as he stood, his stomach cramped and he sat back down. He reached his arm across himself to soothe the pain.   
  
“Draco.”  
  
“Shut up.”   
  
He closed his eyes tightly, the pain persisting. It was a hot, searing pain, spreading from his lower abdomen up to his ribcage, as if someone was shoving a fire poker from his nethers up to his lungs.   
  
“Stand.”  
  
Draco couldn’t tell who was speaking but he willed himself to stand up without question. His head was starting to throb as if the sounds from the Great Hall were suddenly being amplified. All he could hear were chattering, bickering voices, and the rush of his pulse against his ears.   
  
“Where are we going?”   
  
Pansy’s voice cut in, sharp and clear like glass through the cacophony in his head,   
  
“Mcgonagall’s office.”   
  
Why? He had already been evaluated, this.. This wasn’t right.  
  
Betas didn’t become overwhelmed by smells or noise, they were supposed to be the mediators. The clear headed bits of instincts help separate the hostility and nurturing of it’s fellow alignments.   
  
Before he could think, he was being sat down in a chair that felt much too big, and the familiarity of a friend had long since been gone.   
  
He sat before a fireplace, and he watched the wood snap and crackle in the flame. Draco wasn’t stupid, he could make his own deductions before the transfiguration profesor even arrived.   
  
He was presenting, as an omega. He had never been a beta as predicted, rather, he simply was presenting late. Just like Potter, apparently. How was this his luck? How was this possible? Malfoys were not omegas, there had never been a single omegan member of the Malfoy family.   
  
Draco was pulled from his thoughts by the door opening and Professor Mcgonagall taking a seat in front of him, her hands folded rather neatly on the table. The look on her face felt like pity, but it was hard to tell. He felt overwarm.   
  
“I suppose we should wait longer before we start evaluating our students for their alignments.”  
  
Draco nodded but didn’t speak. How could he? His parents prepared him for an alpha presentation. He kept everything his father gave him in his trunk, stuffed furthest at the bottom. There wasn’t a nurturing bone in his body, how could his body betray him like this?   
  
“There are options,” her voice broke through his thoughts again and he looked back at her as she placed two things on her desk. A satchel of patches, and a very plain black collar, noticeably more discreet than anything he’d seen other omega students wear. A lot of them took pride in their alignment, and decorated themselves accordingly.   
  
Draco decided he would not be one of those omegas. He could not be one of those omegas.   
  
“What about heats?” He asked, slowly taking both items. The collar felt heavy in his fingers.   
  
“There’s potions to help prevent them while you’re on campus, however, Draco, you need to have one at some point throughout the year. Many students wait until summer.”   
  
That was reasonable on the surface, he imagined that was how most of them on campus decided to do it. But he couldn’t see himself having one at home. He could already picture the look on his father’s face if he told him. He couldn’t tell if it was disappointment, or hatred.   
  
The Malfoy family never had omegas. He doubted his parents would know how to tolerate him. Especially with the company his father liked to keep, that was.. A risk Draco couldn’t imagine without his stomach rolling again.   
  
“And if it’s not possible to have one at home?”  
  
“Would it not be?”  
  
Draco snapped his eyes upwards to meet his professor’s, and words began to tumble out of his mouth before he could close it and remain impartial.   
  
“There has not been a single omega member of our family until today. My father would never allow me to have a heat in his house,” every conversation about alignment he ever had with his father rattled around his head. He saw omegas as weaker than the other alignments. Alphas were the strongest, great leaders, good fighters, tactile, with a knack for violence and betas were problem solvers. To his father, all he would be good for was.. breeding.   
  
At the least, his father wouldn’t allow him to display his instincts in his house or in his presence, at the worst, his father would remove him from Hogwarts and put him in an omega finishing school where _all_ he would become good for was breeding.   
  
“My father,” Draco wheezed out through the knot in his throat, “Cannot find out about this.” He felt wetness upon his cheeks and swiped it away with his sleeve, curling in on himself as another cramp wracked his body. He drew his knees to his chest under his robe and put his forehead down against them. 

This was the worst case scenario that Draco never imagined would happen.   
  
“In that case,” Mcgonagall started, her voice firm, “We’ll simply make off campus accommodations for this summer.”   
  


“They won’t-”  
  
“This is your biology. It will be impossible to prevent forever and your safety and health needs to become a priority.”   
  


Draco nodded, not enjoying the way her eyes had darkened as she reached her hand down into a drawer and passed over a plain looking potion in a bottle.   
  
“Go ahead and drink this before you head back to your room. You’ll feel back to normal by morning and we’ll come back to this conversation at a later date.”   
  
He uncurled himself and popped the cork out of the bottle. The potion didn’t smell like much of anything except for lavender, and tasted nearly the same. Hopefully this wasn’t a fluke potion and he would feel better by morning.   
  
Draco unbuttoned his shirt collar and put the black one under it to hide it better. He didn’t want to get cornered in the hallway and he figured this would be the best way to do it, so long as he got back to his room without disturbance.   
  
“Thank you, Professor Mcgonagall,” he said while he stood. His legs still trembled on his way out but he was genuinely grateful for this small kindness. He didn’t wholly trust anyone at the school but perhaps she was trying to be sincere.   
  
Or was simply pitying him due to his disposition. He couldn’t tell which it was but decided to go with the latter as he pushed the door open and made his way through the empty halls. The stairs to the dungeons were only a little walk away but still, as he rounded the corner he managed to run right into someone.   
  
“Could you watch where you’re going? The hallways are big enough for you to not be directly in my way you know!” He shouted, drawing his eyes up to meet startling green ones behind wide frames.   
  
Draco recoiled immediately, rolling his eyes, “Of course it’s you,” he muttered, trying to make his way past but his arm was grabbed before he could make his grand escape.   
  
“Are you alright?”   
  
“Let go, Potter.”   
  
“Answer the question,” his brows furrowed and the light lightning scar crinkled against his forehead. Draco trained his eyes onto his to avoid looking at him anymore than he already had.   
  
“I’m fine, thank you very much for minding your business. Good. Night,” his heart raced in his chest as the other finally let him go. He hadn’t gone down into the dorms faster in his life.   
  


He would never understand why Potter had to be so bloody nosy. Was it that hard to mind your own business? He had presented as an alpha, he should be galavanting around his own hall, flirting or whatever the hell else alphas did.   
  
Draco didn’t care. He was exhausted, and as he made his way to his bed the only thing he stripped off was his robe. Every part of his body ached and his head still pounded.   
  
There was very suddenly, a lot more on his plate than he ever thought he could finish eating. 

  
  



	2. Judgement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But he did. He put his face in his hands and cried and all Potter did was put one hand, just one, on his back. He said nothing at all, and Draco was grateful for the silence.

True to the potion’s promise, Draco woke up feeling back to normal. In fact, he bareilly remembered the events of last night until he went to the bathroom and spotted the black collar under his shirt. All of the memories rushed back, the great hall, Mcgonagall’s office, and then Potter in the hallway. He rolled his eyes at himself in the mirror and splashed water on his face. 

“Looks like daddy’s boy finally presented, huh?”

“Go to hell,” he said, but he didn’t linger long in the bathroom after that. It must’ve been obvious in the Great Hall, if he was putting out any sort of scent, then people probably knew. He couldn’t guess how many, and at the moment he didn’t really care. He could chalk it up to lies, or he could own it. His father wouldn’t believe word of mouth about him anyways, not that any of them would be brave enough to mention it to him. 

He sat on the edge of the bed, opening up the satchel of blocking packets and applying one to either side of his neck where he supposed his glands were. They must’ve been the swollen bits around his neck but the black collar concealed them from view, and after that, Draco concealed the piece of leather with an emerald sweater with a turtleneck. The fabric was just thick enough to hide it and until he could work his way around the scent thing, it would have to make do. 

He decided that he was going to avoid the Great Hall, and instead throw himself in his studies. For every class he did, he would complete the homework as fast as he could immediately afterwards. It was the best way to avoid people, or so he thought. 

As he walked through the halls he felt the steadily becoming familiar odor of spice. He adjusted the strap on his shoulder and pivoted around, much to Potter’s surprise. He watched his eyes widen as he stuttered, 

“M-Malfoy.”

“P-Potter,” he mocked, “Rushing to see me now? This better not become a trend, I’m already sick of seeing you for the week.” 

He watched a deep, rougeish flush crawl across his tawny cheeks, and felt triumphant. Good, he should be embarrassed. He certainly smelt it, one of the consequences of not covering up, anyone could tell exactly how you felt based on the scent you put out. 

Clearly, nobody bothered to tell Potter that. 

Time for Draco to break the news, “You smell wretched, you know that.”

“No I don’t.”

“You do,” Draco rolled his eyes, “And you’re making me late for class. If you have something to say, spit it out already instead of standing there like a kicked puppy.” 

Potter opened and then closed his mouth like a fish, brows knitting together like they had the previous night. 

“Do I really smell-”

“Yes! Use your head, don’t you see how everyone else manages to conceal their scents?” Draco gestured at a passing couple, both parties wearing patches. 

“Oh.” 

He watched his nostrils flared and decided he had enough, 

“If you have nothing else to say then, good day, Potter.”

“Wait-”

Draco waved his hand in dismissal, “See you in class.”

Potter was normally smarter with his tongue, something was definitely off about him. Perhaps his recent presentation was clouding his brain more than normal, or his inner alpha simply made his dumber. Both were interesting thoughts to entertain but not thoughts he got to entertain very long as he heard, 

“Don’t worry mate, every omega is bitchy when they first present.”

Wise words from the blood traitor. Draco rolled his eyes and ignored it, but on the inside, he felt…

Horrible. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Bitchy? Potter was the one harassing him in the hallway, certainly not the other way around. He wasn’t bitching because he was an omega, he was bitching because Potter was proper annoying when he wanted to be. What did his friends know about it anyways? Nosy bastards. 

He would have to figure out how to stuff whatever reactions that revealed his alignment inside of himself, he decided as he sat down. Otherwise everyone would see right through him if they didn’t already.

Draco could hardly pay attention to the lecture. He left his book open and took notes here and there, flipping the page when everyone else did but his brain was elsewhere. There was a lot to unpack with being an omega. 

Could he even become a death eater as an omega? He tried to think at the top of his head, if he had ever met or heard of a single omega death eater. 

His brain came to an unhelpful blank and he sighed. That would be another conversation he would have with his father, or be something he would hide until it was time. But if he hid it, Voldemort found out first. 

A shiver ran up his spine. He couldn’t think about that, not now. There had to be a way around it but the only way around it he figured went right back to.. 

Breeding. 

And he wasn’t going to do that, he would rather die than become the Dark Lord’s breeding bitch, or anyone’s breeding bitch for that matter. Nothing aligned with his alignment and all of these plans he and his father made were slipping through his fingers like sand. 

His plan for the rest of his life had crumbled, all because of his own biology. He couldn’t tell his father, he certainly wouldn’t be telling his mother. He wished nobody knew about it. But it felt like everyone knew. He could feel eyes trained on him in every direction, certainly not the first time. Draco always had a knack for feeling when he was being watched. 

So he straightened his posture up, he simply wouldn’t allow himself to act like an omega. Eventually the school full of idiots would get it. He wasn’t going to let them bring him down. He would endure every insult, taunt, and jab that came his way. It was worlds better than what would await him when he arrived home for the summer. 

The class was dismissed with a reminder about the upcoming exam, and Draco knew he would ace it. The class had always been easy enough, he read the textbook cover to cover before the lessons actually started and made his own notes. That had made achieving what he put as a priority easier. 

But then again, the rug was pulled out from beneath him. He glared down at his sex angrily through his pants. The thing that was now going to curse him for the rest of his life was his own body. Not his family’s position, not his father’s ties with the dark lord. No, it was this curse between his legs, and the hormones that kept his body alive. 

There had to be some way to work around it, there was a potion for everything. If there was a potion that could temporarily halt his biology’s need to have a heat, there should be one that could alter the state of that alignment as well. Such things would probably be illegal. 

He didn’t have potions class until the afternoon, and he would have to spend the rest of his time outside of class wondering, and reading whatever he could get his hands on about it. His first stop was going to be the library, so he could at least feign studying while he looked for books that would help him in his quest. 

That was at least where he was headed until he was cornered by two brutes in the hallway, definitely upperclassmen, one wore a Ravenclaw tie and the other from Gryffindor but Draco couldn’t recall seeing either of them around before. At least, certainly not in his presence before. 

“I didn’t think they allowed such.. Little omegas into Slytherin house.”

There it was again, the latest judgement since his presentation, now from the mouths of big, hulking buffoons. He rolled his eyes as far back as he could, reaching into the inner pocket of his robe. He would rather get his wand out before they could reach for theirs, if it came to that. 

“Every house in Hogwarts has always accepted students from every alignment, anyone with a sense-” 

A putrid smell interrupted him half sentence and for once it wasn’t the overbearing spice of Potter. This scent was different, like patchouli and wood fire, coming right from the alphas in front of him. They were posturing, fucking posturing. 

“Even reactive like an omega,” the Ravenclaw chirped, a deep rumble coming from his chest. 

“You wreak,” Draco pointed out, putting his forearm over his nose. The scent was assaulting, already making him nauseous the longer he stood there. “You’re in my way, move.” 

A growl instantly erupted from their throats and he was pushed back against the wall. Their presence was suddenly more threatening and Draco ducked his head back down. There wasn’t an out unless… his wand. 

His knees suddenly felt weak, threatening to give in at any moment. He couldn’t be weak, not now. It was shameful, of him, and his family name. He straightened his posture, locking his knees into place so he wouldn’t sink an inch further. 

The boy’s head turned sharply at the sound of someone clearly falling over, then another. Omegas falling onto their knees from the overwhelming odor. 

“And this is why alphas need to mask their scent,” Draco snapped, “Sending unsuspecting people to their knees, how predatory.” 

“You little-” 

Draco braced himself as the Gryffindor’s arm went up. He was going to be hit and he couldn’t focus enough to bring his wand out. He would take the hit, turn his head down so it came from above and not directly hit his face. 

But the hit never came and once again that terrible, spice smell was flooding his senses. Draco barely managed to look up, seeing double as his knees finally gave out and he fell to the floor. He saw the vague outline of Potter’s expression and nothing else. Creases of worry, he had no right to feel that way. 

He came in to the hospital wing, a heavy rainstorm pounding on the windows like it wanted to be inside. It was fairly dark, only the light of candles illuminated the space. Looking around he could see others on the beds, other omegas who had probably been affected by the overbearing scent of those idiot alphas. 

Something twisted in himself at the memory of his weakness, he couldn’t even fight back. All he did was stand there and accept that he was going to be hit. He had the time to defend himself, so why didn’t he? Stupid biology, stupid hormones.

“I’m glad you’re awake, Malfoy.”

Draco jumped and turned, meeting face to face with Potter. He finally figured out the patch things, and two square pieces adorned either side of his neck. 

“Here to take the piss out of me?”

“What? No! I’m…”

“You’re..” Draco crossed one leg over the other “I’m waiting, spit it out.” 

“Making sure you’re alright.”

His brow twitched, “I’m perfectly fine, thank you very much, you can go now.” 

“Why were you about to get hit?” Potter blurted and Draco glared at him with every bit of anger he had felt in the past 24 hours, hoping his seething would burn through the Gryffindor’s painfully thick skull. 

“Where do I even start? Let’s see, perhaps because just yesterday I presented, in front of the entire school in the Great Hall, and…” He felt hot tears stinging at the edge of his eyes. He would not cry in front of Potter, he would not be doing that. Draco would rather keel over than cry in front of him. 

But he did. He put his face in his hands and cried and all Potter did was put one hand, just one, on his back. He said nothing at all, and Draco was grateful for the silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more cronchy angsty things hehe, it'll get better i promise.


	3. Renaissance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco turned over on his side, drawing his blanket closer to himself. 
> 
> The scent of spice lingered on his hands, and slowly, he brought his palms to his face. Despite himself, he took in a deep sniff. 
> 
> Potter smelled like cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg. He smelled like a freshly baked pie left to cool in the oven, and it lulled Draco to sleep.

Weeks had passed, and all the research Draco consumed was all for naught. There was no such potion, or spell, in existence that could alter the state of your alignment. He had since torn out pages upon pages out of his scroll, trying to come up with something on his own. Everything he did was fruitless, as far as he was concerned, this wasn’t a possibility.   
  
But neither was being honest with his family. He couldn’t honestly gauge how his father would react when he found out. It would go two ways, probably, either his father would agree and completely ignore his disposition, or at worst…   
  
Well, Draco supposed he would probably be sent off to an omega finishing school, or cut off from the family entirely. He doubted his mother would allow that for a second but if his father was angry enough, he wasn’t sure if she would intervene. His mother had always been the cool wash over his father’s oftentimes iron hot rage. Draco had only been the victim of that anger a few times in his life, and his mother was always the one who pulled him out of it.   
  
“Alpha hostility,” she would hiss while combing through his hair, “It’s a curse, really.”   
  
His mother was a beta, although she often spoke aloud of her wishes to have been born an omega, even if it meant not marrying her husband. She rarely spoke about wanting children in front of Draco, but he had overheard enough times, even imagined what it would be like to have a little sibling.   
  
Although he didn’t imagine much, his father would shut it down instantly. “One is enough.” He said, “We only need one heir.”  
  
Draco snorted at the memory. Well, his father and his mother better get to work. If there hadn’t been a single omega in his family, there certainly wasn’t the possibility of having an omega heir to the name.   
  
He lamented over it while he wrote his letter to his parents. It was better to bite the bullet right away and lie through his teeth about needing to stay in Hogwarts for extra classes. At least, that was how Mcgonagall had put it. They weren’t going to be classes so much as the summer was going to be a lot of learning about himself, but there was a catch, a catch he didn’t quite enjoy. A catch his parents definitely wouldn’t enjoy.   
  
He tapped his quill against the parchment page. The off campus accommodations happened to exist in the muggle world, in a smaller sort of town, as far as Draco knew. When he first caught wind of where he would be staying he was vehemently against it.   
  
But it was that, or the potential of being sent off somewhere, or killed. That was also an option to consider. His father very well might kill him out of anger. He only recently considered that possibility but it was also a real one. A very.. Very real one.   
  
Muggle Studies, he would call it an additional muggle studies project, and write about how much he was going to loathe it but he was going anyways to prove a point that he could handle it to his classmates. He would stay above them, he didn’t have a choice.   
  
He was still a pureblood, omega, or beta. That didn’t change his status. He reminded his parents of his blood purity as if they weren’t the ones who raised him and signed the letter off with love.   
  
It didn’t take long to fasten it to the leg of an owl and send it off towards the Malfoy estate. Draco knew he would hear back within the next three days, by the end of the week if his father was particularly behind with the mail.   
  
Draco’s nose wrinkled as he smelt Zabini rounding the corner. He still didn’t wear patches, although there was no reason for him to. He had realized over the past few weeks that alpha scent varied in strength, and Zabini’s didn’t compete with Potter’s heavily spiced scent.   
  
It was actually a relieving smell, compared to what Draco had been smelling lately. He had learned to react before he could be corned, threatening a curse or three and managing to get away nearly every time. Of course there were a few times he got caught off guard and another alpha would intervene, or a Professor.   
  
Apparently these cornerings were common for every omega student. He hadn’t noticed it before, but he noticed it now. Alphas from every house cornering anything with a decently sweet smell. It was disgusting, they were like flies drawn to a sugar trap. Luckily there were a few alphas worth their salt who would shut it down.   
  
“Late pups don’t get to bark.”  
  
Draco heard that phrase thrown around many times and understood it better than ever. Apparently the fresher the presentation an alpha, the more they acted out, an obvious lack of control that had to be learned somehow.   
  
He wondered how they were put in their place, if Draco was an alpha, he doubted his father would allow him to act like that. He had never seen his father act so.. Predatory, not in that way. He had his moments of hostility, sure, but he never cornered his mother.   
  
Draco closed the window, snapping the lock closed as he turned towards the other Slytherin, crossing his arms over his chest,   
  
“What do you want?’   
  
“Nothing, I’m walking you to the prefect bathroom. You said you were bathing tonight, didn’t you?”  
  
His brow twitches, “And why do you feel the need to do that?”  
  


Zabini rolled his eyes, “You know how _they_ get,” his lip curled with disdain. Draco could connect the dots. ‘They’ were probably other alphas. Zabini was one of them but he was consistently disgusted by another alpha’s presence. Probably the aftermath of the excess of suitors his mother kept.   
  
Draco scoffed, “This is ridiculous, how long are they going to keep this up?”   
  
“It’s the only thing they have to pin against you other than the fact that you act like a pompous fool. They won’t try it if another alpha is with you.”   
  
“Are you going to guard the door too?”

“Don’t start,” a low growl erupted from his throat and his hand wrapped around Draco’s bicep. Draco let himself be dragged out. It was funny to watch him get worked out. He had never been close with Zabini, they talked briefly in passing, and occasionally shared meals together when they weren’t tearing each other apart with insults.   
  
Dare Draco think it, but perhaps Zabini was trying to be a good alpha, or at least, decent.   
  
He appreciated the gesture, at the very least. He was led throughout the halls, finally managing to get up all five floors to the prefects bathroom. There was a slight risk involved, but as far as he was aware, there were no alpha prefects.   
  
He at least knew that Granger and Weasley were an omega and beta respectively. Besides, it was less risky than attempting to shower in the dorms where any alpha in Slytherin house could get to him.   
  
Draco couldn’t imagine being an alpha and cornering an omega like that, but he didn’t want it to be him.   
  
“Get in already, I don’t feel like standing here for hours.”  
  
“You’re the one that offered,” Draco reminded him, confirming the password with the door and walking inside. The shut door was a relief, a breath of fresh air away from the cacophony behind it.   
  
The bathroom never smelt like any distinct alignment so much as it only smelt like bath products and oils. There was nothing that would set Draco off, not initially at least. The tiled room was already warm with steam from the bathwater, perfumed lightly of lavender and honey.   
  
It was a most welcome change, and Draco stood by the mirrors while he stripped himself of his clothes. The robe was the first thing to go, then his sweater, and his button up. The fastenings came undone quickly enough and he examined himself carefully. Mcgonagall had warned him of the physical changes his body was going to start going through but so far nothing had been too startling. He always had a smaller waist compared to most boys and perhaps that should’ve been the first clue to his alignment.   
  
The only change he really noticed were perhaps that his hips dipped out slightly more than normal, or that was merely exaggerated by how high he kept his pants on his waist these days. It wasn’t like he lost weight on purpose he just.. Couldn’t stand being in the Great Hall for long periods without growing nauseous.   
  
His pants and socks were the last thing to go and that was when the biggest change glared at him in the face. Genital change, certainly no one looked forward to it, and it had been the most painful. Draco spent the past weeks writhing in bed at night from the cramping pain between his legs, refusing to so much as treat it with a spell. He deserved the pain, for having been born such a way. Long gone was his dick, replaced by two puffy folds and a sex he would only describe as mostly feminine. Remnants were still there of course, logistically he knew that because he was born male, his clitoris was going to be more pronounced, at least he had that, as embarrassing as it was to feel pride in it.   
  
The sooner he got in the water, the better, he supposed. Zabini was waiting outside after all and he’d rather have him there to escort him back to the dungeons. The worst of them prowled the halls at night.   
  
Draco slowly sank into the water, the heat stinging his skin until he was submerged to his shoulders. His muscles relaxed instantly, and he moved to the edge of the basin, folding his arms against the tile and laying his head upon them.   
  
There had been no relaxing since he presented, none to be had at all. Between the barrage of harassment from people that were once afraid of him, and trying to cope with how his family may or may not feel, he didn’t work it into his plans.   
  


And didn’t want to, really. He felt as though he didn’t deserve this. His prefect duties had been on a brief hold, only having resumed a few days ago.   
  
But it was safe, and warm. 

  
At least it was until he heard a splash in the water. He flared his nostrils in an attempt to catch a scent but nothing was there. Draco opened his eyes and turned casually, making sure his heckles weren’t raised and-   
  
It was Granger, only Granger. He was in the bath with a mudblood- 

_ What did it matter? _

It didn’t matter, not really. He rolled his eyes in an attempt to feign disdain. He couldn’t bring himself to care, he wanted to. He wanted to make a big deal out of it. He wanted to storm out of the bath, and yell but he was exhausted. What use would that do for him? What point was there to prove?   
  
“Well that’s the first time an insult hasn’t been thrown when we’re in private.”  
  
Draco rolled his eyes, waving his hand in dismissal, “What’s the point of insulting you while you’re in the bath? That’s a little too low for my comfort.”   
  
“I didn’t think much was beneath you,” her arms crossed over her chest but the smirk on her face was more playful than angry.  
  
“Congratulations, you’re the first to know.”   
  
They stood in awkward silence in the water, and Draco decided now was time to start actually bathing. He ran water through his hair, scrubbed his face. He heard Granger doing the same, at least. It made things significantly less awkward when they put the bath to it’s intended use.   
  
“Do you always bathe with your scent patches on?”   
  
Draco looked at her, then slapped his hands against the sides of his neck. He never took his collar off before getting in. Of course, he showered with it in the dorm bathrooms, he must’ve forgotten to remove it.   
  
“Not always, no. Why do you care?”   
  
“Unfortunately, because Harry never shuts up about you.”  
  
That twit. What right did he have? Bumping into him in the hallways, and now he was telling his friends about him? What was there to tell? His embarrassment, his shame, the cornerings.   
  
“Well, tell him to shut up then, or talk less about me. There’s not much to talk about,” he needed to leave. He stepped out of the bath carefully, it would be more embarrassing if he slipped.   
  
He heard Granger kiss her teeth and he turned to look at her as she ran water through her hair, brushing out her curls along the way. Her eyes slowly met his,   
  
“I want to say that you’re getting a taste of your own medicine.”  
  
There it was, the verbal confirmation of what Draco had been feeling for weeks. Instead of yelling a sharp, loud laugh drew its way out of his chest.   
  
“I suppose so, in a way. Certainly could be better ways of going about it, don’t you think?”  
  
“I agree. I don’t think cornering you in the hallway is the best idea in the world.”  
  
Draco felt a lump forming in his throat as the faces of all the alphas that had shoved him against a wall swarmed into his mind. At some point he stopped seeing their faces and only saw the face of his father.   
  
“Draco-”  
  
“Don’t,” he cut her off, raising his hand, “Look at me like that. It’s fine, it’s what I deserve, isn’t it?”   
  
“That’s not what I meant! Malfoy, listen to me-!”  
  
This was mockery, it had to be mockery. Potter had told his friends what he saw, and heard. Did he tell them about when he passed out? He seemed genuinely concerned, that lying little bastard.

His clothes were cleaned and on his body with a flick of his wand and a rushed spell. He wasted no time, draping his dress shirt and cloak over his arm on his way out of the bathroom. He made sure to shut the door louder than intended.   
  
Of course Zabini had left the door, he couldn’t blame him. Granger kept him talking for longer than intended. He shouldn’t have expected the alpha to stay, he didn’t owe him anything.   
  
He made a brisk walk out of getting back to the dungeons, at least, until that invasive scent caught him off guard again.   
  
“Go. Away.”   
  
“Malfoy, I wanted to talk to you.”  
  
Draco glared up, and then realized that he was glaring up. The height he had on Potter was gone, the obvious results of the other’s alpha status. It did nothing to make him feel better. Instead, he steeled himself, clenching his fist tightly, and examined him.  
  
A few inch growth wasn’t abnormal for newly presented alphas, but for Potter that meant filling out his too big clothes better. The overshirts he always wore were finally starting to hit him around the shoulders, but the jeans remained dutifully baggy.   
  
“You have 30 seconds.”  
  
Potter’s eyes lit up in a way Draco had never seen before in his life, “I talked to Mcgonagall, and it looks like we’re going to be flat mates this summer.”  
  
Draco’s blood boiled, “You can’t have your bloody rut with the Weasel’s fam-”   
  
The alpha shook his head violently, clearly not used to his newfound instincts. It was like watching a clumsy puppy trying to grow into himself,   
  
“No, too many omegas, a risk.”  
  
Even his speech was failing. Did Potter realize? He doubted it. He had never been the most observant person in the room. If he was slipping too far into his instincts, he would be the last one to realize.  
  
Draco flinched when Potter’s hands reached out to clasp his excitedly, bringing both hands up to his chest. Draco glared at him, as harsh as he could but Potter did not falter.   
  
“I can show you everything about the muggle world.”  
  
“Let go of my hands,” he commanded.   
  
“It’ll be so much fun, a real learning experience for you. Finally something you don’t know about, right?”  
  


Potter’s hands were warm and calloused from Quidditch practice, probably where he had come from in the first place. Practice was also the most likely reason for his excitable behavior. There was a joke about dogs and sticks there but Draco didn’t say it.   
  
“I don’t plan on learning anything,” he felt Potter’s thumb twitch over his thumb, his head dramatically turning to the side.   
  
“Why not?  
  
“Because I don’t fucking want to! Now let go of me you massive fucking idiot!”   
  
Draco found himself pushing Potter back, and dread instantly bubbled in his core as he stared up at him. His hands were freed, but he continued, despite the fear inside himself.   
  
“You can’t just go around grabbing people!”  
  
“But it’s you.”  
  
He felt his face burning all the way to his ears, “What do you mean it’s me- nevermind, Merlin, why do I even bother with you!?”   
  
“We’ll be flatmates-!” He still sounded excited, still, as Draco yelled at him.   
  
“Leave it already!” He finally managed to shove past him, not looking behind his shoulder as he stormed his way down five flights of stairs and into the dungeons.   
  
If anyone had a bone to pick prior to his entrance, nobody certainly picked it on his way to his bed. He had never kicked his shoes off faster in his life, dropping his cloak to the floor on top of them.   
  
Why couldn’t he have one peaceful night? Why did Potter always have to show up and act like a complete fool?   
  
He fell into bed back first, staring up at a tapestry firmly attached to the ceiling. The snake felt judgemental, staring at him with beady eyes.   
  
Draco turned over on his side, drawing his blanket closer to himself.   
  
The scent of spice lingered on his hands, and slowly, he brought his palms to his face. Despite himself, he took in a deep sniff.   
  
Potter smelled like cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg. He smelled like a freshly baked pie left to cool in the oven, and it lulled Draco to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aye new chapter!! i also made a tumblr mostly bc that's... the best place that I've found drarry content lol. I'm @razodazol there if u wanna follow me heehe. also I just wanted smthn softer bc the next chapter is uh well ;)


	4. The Shattering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Father's visits never go well

As the next few days followed, Draco didn’t hear a word from either of his parents. No letter ever came to him, and he wasn’t visited. Perhaps they were consulting, or figuring out whether or not to agree. They didn’t exactly have a choice, Draco was going to do what he had to do to ensure his safety regardless. 

Although that partially went through the window when a trip to Hogsmeade was announced, and had he not needed more parchment and a new quill, he would’ve skipped out. It was hard enough walking through school, but where anyone could see him? That left him on edge. 

He decided to stay by Mcgonagall’s side through the trip, the spring afternoon was dutifully breezy and warm. He hadn’t worn an uncollared shirt since he presented but he honestly couldn’t be bothered. The news had spread fast, and he noticed that the attention towards him was steadily dying down as alphas eventually grew tired and found someone else to prey upon. 

Draco simply made sure his collar hid the scent patches beneath. Maybe he would pick up another. The leather was steadily starting to wear out anyways, he’d get a simple black one, perhaps a little thicker so it covered more of his throat. He had the money for it, it wasn’t like his parents were there to steer him around the shops this time. 

“How have you been feeling lately, Mr. Malfoy?”

“Fine,” he replied, “Nothing’s changed much, I’m bothered less.”

“Isn’t that a blessing,” Mcgonagall regarded a roughhousing group of alphas coldly and Draco followed suit with a glare that could kill, leaning forward so they could see his face properly. They were truly like dogs. 

“It is. Although I wanted to talk to you about something,” he looked back up at her and she peered right back down at him before her expression softened, eyes urging him to continue. Lately, he had gotten a lot better at reading everyone’s body language. Probably a defense mechanism, better to read people first before their body tenses and attacks. 

Draco turned towards Gladrags, the spring breeze ruffling his rather loose shirt. He normally didn’t expose so much skin but as the seasons changed and the potion weakened, he spent most of his days degrees hotter than he normally was. It would pass when he was regular, that was what his potions said. He would have to get used to it. 

“Potter told me we would be sharing a flat.”

“You will be.”

“Why?” He curled his lip, just the thought of living with the Gryfindor was… 

The memory of his scent on his palms drew him away from those thoughts, and he straightened himself out, looking back up at his transfiguration professor as she gathered her thoughts.

“Because you both need similar accommodations, and it’ll be safer for you if an alpha is in the same living space.”

“I thought that was dangerous.” 

“When it’s an alpha that wishes you harm, yes. I did talk to him about this, you know. It’ll be better for both of you. Your inner omega won’t panic at the absence of an alpha, and Harry’s inner alpha won’t try and screw anything he finds in the street.”

“And just my scent will prevent that?” He felt skeptical. What if Potter tried to jump his bones?

Oh.. what if Potter tried to jump his bones.. 

Draco shivered and held himself, no. Don’t think about that. He needed to stop going to filthy places. 

“He’ll feel a need to stay and protect you more than he wants you in that way. He’s simply that sort of alpha.”

“No kidding,” Draco rolled his eyes, spotting the clothes shop rather quickly. A perfect out, he couldn’t talk about living with Potter for very long. Every time he merely thought about it his thoughts went to a place he was embarrassed about. It had only started happening since he held his hands in the hallway. 

Stupid puppy bastard Potter. He’d scrub his hands clean again, he would rid himself of that memory and those feelings eventually. 

“I’ll be back out shortly.” 

“I didn’t think you needed new robes.” 

He turned his head, tugging at the collar around his throat, “A bit simple for a wizard of my status, don’t you think, Professor Mcgonagall?”

She simply grinned at him, like a cat that got the cream, “I can’t confirm nor deny.” 

Draco smiled back at her briefly before entering the familiar store inside. He had been in Gladrags dozens of times before, with his mother, and his father. Even before he went to Hogwarts, his father liked a specific cloak tailored from this specific shop. Draco knew exactly what it looked like because it got ruined every year. High necked, sleek black on the outside and a deep, emerald velvet lining. 

When he was little, he would hug his father and bury his face in that cloak. It was always one of the more comforting articles of clothing he ever wore. Everything else, Draco was strictly not allowed to touch, even if he wanted to so badly. 

“Ah, Mr. Malfoy, it’s good to see you back at this time of year. Here for another fitting? You look like you’ve grown.”

“No, I’m here for an accessory actually. Thank you though,” just because his father was always quick and firm in his choices and desired, Draco didn’t need to be. He wasn’t in a rush to get anywhere in particular. 

He found the accessories section easily and there was quite a range before him. The collars ranged from the gaudiest things Draco had seen. Pastels and bolds mixed with clownish patterns and all the bells and whistles a person could ask for. The selection went from that, all the way to simple leather with metal hardware. 

He picked one with a simple buckle. It was thick like he wanted, and much more difficult to remove if someone was pulling it and didn’t understand how it fastened. He didn’t care about the price, he brought it to the till and handed over a decent amount of money for it. 

It was worth it. He would probably switch to wearing it tomorrow, but for now he kept it in a discreet paper bag. The wizard working had winked at him and Draco fought not to tell him off. He probably saw omegas buy similar collars all the time, and he wasn’t exactly offended. 

“Find what you were looking for?”  
“It didn’t take very long. I’m headed off to Scrivenshaft’s, I won’t be long.”

“In that case, I’ll be at Madam Puddifoot’s, feel free to join me when you’re finished.”

“Alright,” Draco nodded. Puddifoot’s was close by, he wouldn’t be too far away if anything happened. He hoped nothing would happen, he didn’t need much. Just a quill, and some parchment. 

He rounded the corner towards the shop and that was when he caught it, the sharp scent of pine and copper. 

No.. his father couldn’t be.

Act natural, Draco. He straightened his posture, walking towards the shop as if he hadn’t smelled a thing. If he pretended nothing was wrong, perhaps his father wouldn’t notice. That was also a strong possibility, so much as he acted normal, how would anyone be able to tell? 

“Draco.”

His heart leapt in his chest and he turned slowly, keeping his expression as stony as he could, 

“Father, I didn’t think I would see you here.” 

His father’s lip twitched slightly and he beckoned Draco forward into an alley between the shops. He didn’t have a choice now. He followed his father into the dark space, regarding him with a cool expression. 

“Did you receive my letter?”

“I did.” 

He watched his father’s pale eyes drift up and down his form. He should’ve covered up more, not that his clothes were particularly tight to start with. Why did he think wearing something so loose was a good idea? His heart was hammering in his chest as he watched his father’s fingers drum atop his cane. 

“Why do you think it’s a good idea to study muggles in their natural habitat?”

Draco wrinkled his nose, “It wasn’t my idea, take it up with Profesor Mcgonagall. I wrote to inform you about it before she did-”

“Take off the collar, Draco.”

“Father-” 

The smell of copper grew stronger, “I will not repeat myself,” his father’s voice became more of a growl.

Draco swallowed, and reached behind his neck to unfasten the collar. The insides were worn nearly raw, the leather starting to peel apart from heavy use. He shouldn’t have showered with it on, he knew that much. 

He felt exposed, naked. 

“Are we done?” Draco asked, trying not to falter. 

He watched his father’s nostrils flare, Draco clenched his fists tightly and braced himself for his father’s judgement. The patches only did so much to conceal his scent, simply stopping the pheromones from leaking out. Omegas always had distinctly sweeter smells. 

Draco had no clue what he smelled like, he never wanted to ask anyone that felt.. Invasive. 

When he looked back at his father’s face, his pupils were narrowed into sharp slits, his anger apparent on his face. 

“Father, I can explain-“ 

Draco didn’t move fast enough. His father grabbed his cane by the middle and swung. 

His vision went spotty as pain bloomed across his head. He felt warm blood dripping down into his eye, his vision obscuring further. 

“Father-“ 

“Silence”

The cane came down again, this time across his back, but he didn’t make a sound. He couldn’t make a sound, it felt like his throat had closed as white hot pain seared across his rib cage. 

He wanted to scream, wanted to cry out, but he couldn’t. His body wasn’t allowing him too, he was going to be beaten by his father right there in Hogsmeade. 

“I should’ve known what you were when you obeyed commands as a child.”

The cane came back down upon him, harder. He couldn’t tell if the copper he smelled was his father or his own blood. Draco stared at the ground as rivulets of blood fell upon the cobblestone. 

“An omega.” 

An omega. 

He was an omega, wasn’t he? He brought shaky fingers to his neck, and he slowly peeled off one of the patches. 

Right away he could smell his own distress, a weird smell, like tea that has been left to steep for days, acidic, and harsh. 

The cane slammed against his wrist and he heard the crack his bones made, but couldn’t feel it. A numbing feeling was taking over, warmth, spreading from his chest over the rest of his body. 

His cheek touched the ground and he stared forward at the entrance of the alley. He should have guessed no one would save him, they had no reason to. He was Draco Malfoy, an omega. 

And worth nothing now. 

He whined and felt his father’s cold hands brace between his shoulder blades. 

And that was when he smelled it, a sharp spice smell, like star anise, and nutmeg. 

Potter. 

Draco tasted the blood in his mouth as he opened it, only for the air to be taken from his lungs. Potter’s name was at the tip of his tongue, he couldn’t say it. Why couldn’t he say it? 

He didn’t have to. He heard a scuffle above him and more warmth. The nice kind of warmth, like a quilt on Christmas. 

He briefly closed his eyes before being shaken awake by the shoulder. He looked up slowly until his eyes met big, thickly lashed green ones. 

Draco made a sound despite himself, a chirp that came out of his throat, and Potter smiled, then laughed. 

And held him, picked him up. Potter smelled like home, of things Draco was sure he had never experienced but he felt like home. Stupid, kind Potter. 

How dare he be so wonderful.. how dare he. 

Draco awoke with sunlight streaming in through a rather large window although it took him longer to figure out where he was, exactly. It certainly wasn’t the hospital wing at Hogwarts, the room was larger, decorated differently. 

That, and he was under several different blankets. One he recognized as his comforter from home, the others.. Maybe one was from Hogwarts. He wasn’t sure. All of it smelled like Potter though. His heavy spice permeated through the covers, but it didn’t feel as nauseating more like comfort, in a way Draco couldn’t quite place. 

He sat up when he heard the door open, staring at the shadowy space behind. 

Mcgonagall stepped through the space and her face brightened when she saw him. Draco felt comfort, again, comfort as she walked over and stood next to him, taking a seat next to the bed. 

“It’s good to see you awake, how are you feeling?”

Draco opened his mouth then closed it again. That was a charged question. Physically he felt exhausted, as if he had been hit by a train. 

“Tired,” his voice came out hoarse and he shocked himself. He sounded terrible, and he glared down at himself. 

“Better than dead, I’d say.”

He smiled, and nodded, “That’s true. Where’s..” His father, that was right. He remembered now, Hogsmeade. His cane. He brought a hand up to his head and winced. 

“St. Mungo’s?”

“Yes.” 

“Why?” 

Mcgonagall peered up at him and Draco curled his comforter between his fingers, taking a fistfull of it. Then she sighed, heavily. 

“Madam Pomfrey said she couldn’t help remove the commands your father put on you. St. Mungo’s does, luckily, so here we are. They were also able to fix your ribs a lot faster, might I add.”

He touched his side, which wasn’t blistering anymore, his ribs only ached dully. He must’ve been far gone if he couldn’t remember even getting there. 

“My father put a command on me?” 

Mcgonagall nodded, worrying her lip slightly. 

“Where is he now?”

“We’re not sure.”

“Is my mother okay?”

“Quite. She came by to see you a few times, dropped off your blanket.”

That.. made a lot more sense. He stopped fidgeting with the fabric and sighed. He should’ve expected his father to be angered. Part of him knew it would’ve gotten physical. Why did he think he could explain it? He hardly understood his alignment for himself. 

“Why does it smell like Potter then?”

“He gave you his sweatshirt the first day you were here.” 

Draco’s face turned red with embarrassment as he threw the covers off, and there it was, glaring up at him. He always thought the mimicry of muggle clothes in the name of house pride was absolutely tacky. Yet there he was, wearing a Gryffindor sweatshirt. It was easily a size too big on him but it smelled.. So nice. He didn’t exactly want to take it off, and the thought of removing it made something inside him ache. 

“That twit.” 

“He’s the one that found you and your father, you should really thank him you know.”

He scoffed, “It’ll be a snowy day in hell before I thank him, I didn’t ask for this anyways!” 

“Do you want to take it off?”

“No!” 

Mcgonagall chuckled, “You can’t have it both ways.”

Draco whined in the back of his throat, “Yes I can.” 

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. He heard a light rapping against the door before Potter’s head popped in, face brightening. 

“You’re awake now!” 

“Way to state the obvious, Potter. Just come on in, make yourself at home.”

“If you say so.”

Draco’s face heated, “That’s not what I meant!”

But Potter was already pulling up a chair, squeezing in tightly next to Professor Mcgonagall before she rose, abandoning him with the alpha. 

“I’ll go get us some tea while you two catch up.”

Part of him wanted to reach for her and pull her back down. He did not want to be left alone but she was already out of the room before he could react properly which left him with Potter. 

Potter, who glowed in the sunlight streaming in, contrasting so greatly against the pale of the scar against his temple. Draco wanted to hold his face in his hands, but strictly left them wound in his comforter. He decided to stop looking at him.

“I’m glad to see you’re back to your usual self.”

“Is that all you have to say?”

Potter kissed his teeth and leaned against the bed even more, taking up more space. 

“Maybe it is, you have a problem with that.”

“A bit.”

“What does a bit mean?”

Draco smiled and looked back down at him, “It means what it means, stop talking.”

“Make me.” 

He reached out, and tucked a loose curl out of Potter’s face and behind his ear. He took pride in watching Potter’s cheeks flush a deep, terracotta red color. Deep, green eyes were focused wholly on Draco and he stared right back at him. 

Then, he leaned down and Potter met him halfway there as they kissed. It was a quick, brief thing. Draco hardly felt their lips touch before the door creaked open and they quickly parted. 

Draco whacked him in the back of the head, “You should’ve just left me there, I could have handled my father on my own.” 

“As if.”


	5. Lining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's better than one kiss? More secret kisses

Draco would never tell a soul but when he got back to Hogwarts, he kept Potter’s stupid sweater. He folded it up and slipped it underneath his pillow, securing it firmly against the backside of his pillowcase. Nobody had to know, and nobody found out. He managed to slip in while everyone else was in classes to get his things put back together. 

His mother brought more of his clothes and the conversation they had together was incredibly brief. His father was being held for questioning, and would more likely than not be sent back home once the week was out, not condemned for his actions at all. 

Which was also expected. Draco knew his father had a way of slinking out of any situation, lying through his teeth to get there or simply manipulating his way out of any sort of repercussion. He used to admire that about his father, genuinely, he did.

Now, that feeling was completely different. It turned inside of Draco like a vice, making his insides feel boiling. Of course his father was going to lie his way out of what he did to him. There was no proof anyways, Draco’s body had healed, there was not so much as a little scratch on him. At least, not from the incident in Hogsmeade. 

Truthfully, little scars littered Draco’s body. They were fine, healed over little things, hardly contrasting across the pale of his skin. All of them were concentrated on his back, some licking across his ribcage. All of them were from when he was much younger and the brief instances of rage had consumed his father and regular punishment wasn’t enough. They weren’t enough to notice unless you knew where to look, and Draco knew that. 

There was no evidence except for his account and Potter’s, the Ministry weren’t going to believe them. Two teenagers versus the word of an esteemed pureblood. They would be a joke in the eyes of the court. Mcgonagall was the only one who would know the truth and take it seriously. Draco loved his mother, but she stood by her husband no matter what. 

He wished he could do the same, but the mere thought of his father’s presence made all of his hair stand on end. Could he handle his father a second time? Would he be able to fight back? Perhaps it was in the nature of his biology to stand down, to take whatever was dealt to him. Draco had been that way ever since he was a child, always terrified of standing up against his father even if it was over something as trivial as not being allowed a book or to go outside.

Maybe that was why his life played out the way it had, leading up to the very day he would present and humiliate himself. He was positive this would bring shame upon his family for generations to come, if it hadn’t already. He had no idea what his mother actually thought. If she was for it or against it, she certainly didn’t bring it up at St. Mungo’s. 

Not that he blamed her, she was probably in a state of shock. His father always made sure his mother wasn’t around for those sorts of things. 

It made Draco angry when he thought back to it. Why hadn’t he been more angry when it was actually happening regularly? Before Hogwarts, he stepped on eggshells around his father constantly, obeyed his every order without much complaint. 

He decided to do his prefect rounds, get his mind off of it. There was no point in sitting there, stewing on his own history, on things he would never be able to change. Draco quickly pulled on robes, pinning his badge of honor against the fabric before he drew the curtains around his bed shut. He didn’t need people snooping about his space more than they already tried to. 

Besides, it would be easier to be in the right place at the right time to get to class. He didn’t need to miss more school than he already had been lately. It didn’t take long to get caught up but still, he knew there were assignments he missed that nobody was willing to give to him. The faster he got to his class, the better. 

It would at least minimize the cornering. 

He got his bag together last, shoving in a roll of parchment and an extra quill for good measure. He wouldn’t let Hogwarts intimidate him, there was no point in it, really. If they were going to make a big deal out of his alignment he swore he would make it a bigger one, perhaps knock them down a few pegs if he was ever made fun of for it again. 

Because really, how attractive is it for an alpha to be a colossal douchebag? Draco wondered if his father was like that in his youth, and the first thought that came to his mind was that he probably was. From what he had heard from rumors, Potter’s father was much the same way. Two douchebag, freshly presented alphas. 

How very attractive.. Draco’s lip curled at the thought as he walked down the hallway, holding his chin high and surveying the area for any student out of place. Until classes were dismissed at least, it was easy enough to tell who was just skipping for the hell of it. At least in Slytherin house, he knew how they all thought. They were slick, but not slick enough. Draco spent his first years at Hogwarts scheming the hell out of everything, he knew every hiding spot on campus and- 

“Malfoy!” 

Draco’s nostrils flared and he looked around. Was he going crazy?

No, he wasn’t. He felt a hand gripping around his bicep and before he could reorient himself he was chest to chest with Potter in the smallest corner of the hallway. 

“What the hell was that for?” 

“I’ve been calling your name for nearly a minute.”

“Perhaps I was ignoring you on purpose!” Draco pinched the space between his eyebrows and sighed, “What do you want now?”

“I.. I er.. I uh,” Potter’s cheeks turned bright red again and Draco wanted to step away but fabric rustled his hair. They were under his stupid invisbility cloak. Damn him for being smart. 

“I, I er uh,” he mocked him again, folding his arms over his chest as he got very much in Potter’s space, getting onto his toes so he would stay at eye level with the alpha. “Spit. It. Out. I don’t have time for this.” 

“I just wanted to see you.” 

“Is that why you brought the invisibility cloak?”

There was a lapse of silence and it looked like Potter’s brain was trying to catch up with the conversation they were having. Draco had halls to watch, and a class to go to. 

But Potter grabbed him again, and this time turned him around as he leaned forward again. 

Their noses touched and Draco watched as Potter’s pupils dilated in front of him. 

He leaned forward and kissed him again, bringing his hands up to caress either side of Potter’s stupid face. That kiss lasted much longer than their first one. He could feel the heat against Potter’s lips. 

Potter leaned in closer and Draco fumbled against him, holding him closer somehow, as if there was more space to pull him there. They were chest to chest, kissing, and Draco didn’t want it to stop, not even for a second. His body lit up with a warmth he had never felt before in his life, a bright, warm feeling that ignited from his chest and came out of his throat in the weirdest noise he ever heard himself make. 

Potter pulled away then, and made an even weirder sound. A deep rumble came from his chest and he dipped his head down, nosing around Draco’s collar. 

He reached up and twirled the back of his hair between his fingers, letting the alpha nose more against his scent gland. He wasn’t going to get anything out of it but Draco indulged him, just slightly. 

Draco felt him exhale against his neck and Draco tilted his head down against his, “We should stop.” 

“Yeah..”

“Yeah?”

Potter stood back up, sheepish, his face flushed absolutely rosy with embarrassment. They were still hidden under the invisibility cloak and Draco did know the locations of quite a few abandoned classrooms. 

No, he couldn’t. 

He shouldn’t. 

But he wanted to. 

Draco wanted to have him so very badly that it made something in his chest ache. He felt like he was being stabbed when Potter gently pushed him out of the cloak and out of sight. The alpha vanished from his view and Draco stood there, searching for him. 

He couldn’t be weak, not in the open in such a way. That was practically asking for it. He huffed and walked away, turning quickly on his heel and rushing towards the actual class he was supposed to be in. He couldn’t believe himself. What the hell was he thinking. Kissing Potter. Kissing Potter!? 

He felt his cheeks warm at the memory. Kissing Potter.. He had kissed him, hadn’t he? That was definitely a real kiss, not a little peck no. They kissed for real, and when Draco licked his lips he could taste Potter on them and that was all that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!! so this is going to be the second to last chapter. the last chapter is going to be them in London handling each others'... ;) you know what i mean. It's just gonna take me longer to write as I'm starting to work on my finals for college. I hope u enjoy this chapter!!

**Author's Note:**

> so uh just a heads up obviously fuck j.k rowling but imma take her characters for a bit. this is mostly just a passion project of sorts and the plot is uhh barely there. this takes place between their 5th-6th years but it's not explicit or aligned with the book events very strongly. mostly just wanted to write draco getting some (imagine star emojis here) actual help from the staff at hogwarts and I stan Mcgonagall. if u have any critiques or comments pls leave them below im nosy!!


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